Behind the Veil
As I sat on on a cushion with my legs tucked beside me, I was struck by my unique privilege. I had joined Hind at the mosque and also the hammam, where we had lain naked on marble slabs as the bath attendant sloughed dead skin from our bodies. I had sat chatting with her grandmother about her tattoos and taken the groom’s 12-year-old sister to the market to buy sweets. Yet as a Western woman, I was not expected to follow the rules of my Muslim counterparts.
















Caitlin Fitzsimmons